


Sunday (#13 Unit)

by ladygray99



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: whitecollar100, Drabble, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-27
Updated: 2011-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygray99/pseuds/ladygray99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Moz, Moz. You lived in a storage unit.” “But I lived there, man. I lived!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday (#13 Unit)

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings/Spoilers: Flip of the Coin, Prisoner's Dilemma. References to underage prostitution. Bad words.
> 
> If you haven’t seen Prisoner’s Dilemma this probably won’t make a lot of sense. This is my take on how Mozzie and Neal could have met.

Neal sucked on his fingers before making another go at the lock. He cursed his last john who had dumped him by the warehouses instead of driving him back into the city. If he could just get into one he could at least get out of the sleet. His fingers were numb and he dropped his pick. Sitting in the frozen slush it almost seemed too much effort to bend down and pick it up. It was late and he was cold but at least his hands had stopped shaking.

~

Neal opened his eyes and quickly analyzed the situation. He was in a bed. It was small but soft and blessedly warm with heavy blankets piled on top of him. He could feel himself naked under the blankets except for his shorts. The bed was in a room a bit smaller than his dad’s garage. It had metal walls and a steel rolling door. There was warm golden light illuminating a clutter of old looking wooden furniture. His t-shirt and jeans were hanging in front of a small space heater and a small balding man was hunched over a desk an ink brush in his hand.

The man looked up. “Hello, you’re awake.”

“Where am I?”

“You’re in Sunday.”

Neal groaned internally. The last thing he needed was to be in the lair of some weirdo. “Feels more like Thursday to me.”

The man smiled. “I live here. Mainly on Fridays. And you young man nearly froze to death on my front porch.”

Neal looked around again. “I was outside a warehouse. This looks like a storage unit.”

“It is a storage unit.”

“You live in a storage unit?”

“It’s warm and dry and suits my needs. At least on Fridays.”

“What about Saturdays?”

“That’s what I have Monday for.”


End file.
